


Nothing Can Beat Home

by itsab



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Hobbits, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsab/pseuds/itsab
Summary: Bilbo's wife is incredibly surprised by the gaggle of dwarves squatting in their home.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	Nothing Can Beat Home

**Author's Note:**

> The reader is a female siren, who uses female pronouns.

Hobbits were a simple race, who led very simple lives.

Their needs were little; they like to live close to the earth and nature, taking pride in their grass-covered homes and their gardens. Generally, staying away from the troubles of the ‘big people’ of Middle Earth, as well as large bodies of water (due to hobbits often not being able to swim), was how they kept such happy, simple lives. Hobbits found happiness in the simple pleasures of life. Enjoying good food, drinking good ale, smoking good pipe weed, and joining joyous gatherings were all the luxuries they needed in life.

Fitting into the Shire had been a long and arduous process for you – mostly due to you having to understand the significant physical and cultural differences between the siren people, your people, and the hobbits.

Physically, you were far taller than the hobbits (your people were classed as ‘big people’ by the hobbits), and you did not have the same hairy feet they did. Your soles weren’t as durable, either, so you confused the residents of Hobbiton by wearing soft, leather-made slippers when out and about. They didn’t understand how you could be confined like that, but then you didn’t truly understand why they took such efforts to groom their feet – but ultimately decided it must be more to do with the culture they have created for themselves.

Culturally, hobbits were quite solitary. They claimed that they were happier staying out of the goings on in Middle Earth. As such, they typically avoided leaving the Shire – so they definitely found your need to roam the land quite odd. Often, rumours and hearsay about you could be heard in the markets and taverns of the Shire, there was plenty to say of Bilbo Baggins’ wife and her un-hobbitlike behaviour. But a siren, like a hobbit, is connected to the earth and to nature, but more so rivers, lakes, and the sea, all of which reside no-where near Hobbiton – so, you did a lot of travelling.

Despite your genetic disposition to often roam to the nearest body of water, nothing could top the feeling you get when you re-entered the Shire, which was now your home. Not to mention the complete joy you felt as you stood at the familiar (but freshly re-painted) green hobbit-hole door. The Baggins’ home, aptly named Bag End, was famous in Hobbiton, as it was carved by Bilbo’s father, Bungo, decades ago, as gift for his bride, Belladonna Took – quite the declaration for a mere hobbit.

Normally, there was only silence, or the sound of Bilbo muttering to himself as he cleaned, to be heard in the hobbit-hole. However, this evening there was plenty of noise (specifically voices) emanating from within the home, which was very odd considering your husband Bilbo was not the type to entertain guests so late into the night. He strictly believed in ‘quiet time’, by this time of night.

“Hello?” You called out as you stepped into your home, quickly closing the door behind you, all the whilst wondering what on Middle Earth was going on. “Bilbo?” Where there had been nothing but noise, there was now only silence. “Bill?” You called out your personal nickname for your husband, suddenly quite worried.

“Who are you?” The gruff voice that accosted you, emerged from within the body of a balding dwarf who suddenly appeared to the left. He looked at you, judging your tall frame, and your elf-made clothing, before he suddenly had a short dagger pointed at you. “What is an elf doing at a secret dwarrow meeting?” Why would there be a secret dwarrow meeting, in the Shire? What was wrong with the mountains that dwarves resided in?

Two voiced rang out, calling the name “Dwalin!”, one reprimanding and unfamiliar, the other panicked and known to you. Bilbo scampered towards you, quickly followed by a white-haired dwarf, with shock and fright slapped onto his face, “Y/N!” He came towards you, bravely placing his tiny body between your own and the dwarf’s dagger. That was your husband, sweet and brave (no matter how little he believed so).

All of the commotion between the four of you, had caused twelve other dwarves to exit from the dining room. They all swarmed into the entrance hall, trailed by a tall, elderly man draped in grey robes – who could possibly be the famous grey wizard, Mithrandir. Despite being completely surrounded now, what you focused on wasn’t the number of dwarves around you, or the weapons they held, or even the hostile looks that they threw towards you – really, what your mind had zeroed in on, was the fact they were all wearing muddy travelling boots! They’d tracked mud all through your home!

Bilbo tried to take a hold of the situation as best he could, which was by demanding the dwarf to lower his weapon, “It’s quite unnecessary, Master Dwalin!” He spluttered out, “I-I demand you lower your weapon!” Your sweet hobbit flapped his hands, frantically trying to get the dwarf to listen to him. The dwarf did not listen, or obey Bilbo’s demands.

Silence was beginning to crowd the atmosphere of the entrance hall.

Unexpectedly, one of the dwarves from the group lumbered forward. There was a sense of majesty oozing from his being, that wasn’t present in the other dwarves. It felt like his every movement was majestic. Said dwarf had dark hair, and didn’t seem as old as some of the other dwarves, but also not as young as some of them, either. Also, he wore a lovely shade of blue. Vaguely, you thought about asking him where he purchased the garment, because it looked lovely and well-crafted.

Any sense of regal-ness he emitted was very much marred by his angry looking scowl, which he seemed to be sending to both your husband and the elderly man (who, was possibly the Mithrandir some of your elvish friends have mentioned). Honestly, you wondered why this dwarf seemed simultaneously royal, and undiplomatic. “Gandalf, why does your hobbit thief protect an elf?” He levelled a disgusted look at you, which wasn’t as frightening to you, as he would think it was. Rather, his looks and question only sent you further into a rage.

“I am not an elf, thank you very much!” and “How dare you speak of my wife in such a manner!” were spluttered out at the same time. Bilbo was wagging his finger at the dwarf who had insulted you, his face very much becoming the colour of one of his prized tomatoes.

Dwalin, the dwarf who quickly put away his weapon at the mention that you happened to be the lady of this house, grunted towards you, “You look like an elf, and you dress as one too!” Was he trying to defend his preposterous actions towards you?

“Tell me Master Dwarf, if I dressed as a rabbit, and hopped around for a bit, would you assume me an animal? Would you hunt and gut me for your dinner?” Bilbo shot you a look, his wide-eyes telling you to stop being so sarcastic to those who had just held you at the end of their dagger. Ignoring his look of fear, you gazed down at your husband, “Bilbo, what is going on here?” You waved your hand at the large group, “Who are all these dwarves? And, why haven’t they been courteous and removed their muddy shoes at our door, like all other guests are required to do?” Some of the dwarves looked rightfully told-off. As they should, your floors were filthy!

“I am terribly sorry for such a mess, young miss. Please excuse our actions, I was entirely unaware that Bilbo had married” The elderly man looked just as chastised as some of the younger-looking dwarves did (probably because he, too, still wore his muddy shoes). “I am Gandalf the Grey.” Oh, he was the infamous wizard! “Pray tell is your name, my lady?”

Despite not being used such formal words, you managed to collect yourself, and swiftly informed them all of your name. “I am Y/N Baggins, wife of Bilbo Baggins, lady of Bag End, and former member of the Seiren.” It felt unfamiliar to refer to yourself in such a manner, as you hadn’t had to formally introduce yourself in years – not since your first entry into the Shire.

“A siren?” Gandalf’s eyes twinkled, as if truly amused by such news. “How does a siren come to live in the Shire, so far from water?” The dwarves, that still huddled too close to you, looked puzzled by Gandalf’s words. You assumed they did not know what a ‘siren’ was, which was understandable, many people knew nothing of your people. They were rumoured to be as secretive as dwarves, ironically enough.

Your answer to the wizard’s question was short, “Love, Mister Gandalf.” Normally, you would have accepted to talk in circles with him, but you found yourself slightly too drained. “Now, I have travelled long and far, and would very much enjoy refreshing myself, before any discussions shall take place.” You crouched down, bringing yourself to the same height as your husband, now ignoring all others in the hall, “I shall go do that, but I expect a full explanation of the goings-on when I return.” Bilbo looked worried, as if he feared your reaction to what he would tell you. Deciding that you did not like such a look on him, you quickly distracted him. You leaned towards him, sultrily whispering into his ear, “I missed you, husband.” And, before he could protest at the company that would witness, you pressed a soft kiss to his smaller lips, promises of later left unsaid, but very much visible to him.

As you walked away, sauntering off to your and Bilbo’s shared bedroom, a young-sounding voice muttered out, “How did you find such a woman?” Awe lined every word spoken.

Several chuckles and Bilbo’s squeak of embarrassment followed the question, easily sending your small smile into a full-blown grin. Yes, nothing could beat the feeling of being home again.


End file.
